Her First-Date Honeymoon. Katrina Cudmore

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СКАЧАТЬ she reached down to her left ankle and gave it a quick squeeze. Sitting up, she inhaled deeply, her chest rising and falling. A flash of heat coloured her cheeks. The result of the whisky or something else?

      ‘Not particularly.’ Her clipped tone was accompanied by a haughty rise of her chin.

      ‘In that case I’ll go and make some phone calls to arrange a hotel room for you.’

      He was at the door before she spoke.

      ‘My fiancé...I mean my ex-fiancé...was arrested early yesterday morning—at four o’clock, to be precise—for embezzlement.’

      She tugged at the neck of her jumper. He returned to his seat and she darted a quick glance in his direction. Pride in battle with pain.

      ‘He stole funds from the company he worked for; and also persuaded his family and friends to invest in a property scheme with him. There was no scheme. Instead he used the money to play the stock exchange. He lost it all.’

      ‘And you knew nothing about it?’

      She stared at him aghast. ‘No!’ Then she winced, and the heat in her cheeks noticeably paled. ‘Although the police wouldn’t believe me at first...’ She glanced away. ‘I was arrested.’

      ‘Arrested?’

      She reached for her glass but stopped halfway and instead edged further back into the sofa. ‘Yes, arrested. On what was supposed to be my wedding day.’ She gave a disbelieving laugh. ‘I was let go eventually, when they realised I was his victim rather than his partner in crime.’

      Her eyes challenged his; she must be seeing the doubt in his expression.

      ‘By all means call Camden Police Station in London, if you don’t believe me; they will verify my story. I have the number of the investigating officer.’

      His instinct told him she was telling the truth, but he wasn’t going to admit that. ‘It’s of no consequence to me.’

      That earned him a hurt glance. Remorse prickled along his skin. But why was he feeling guilty? None of this was his doing. What on earth was she doing in Venice anyway?

      ‘Do you think it was wise, coming to Venice? Without a hotel booking? Wouldn’t you be better off at home?’

      She crossed her legs with an exasperated frown that told him he wasn’t getting this. ‘I did have a hotel booking. Or so my ex told me. But he never transferred the funds so the booking fell through. He also cleared out our joint bank account. Anyway, I don’t have a home. Or a job. I moved out of my apartment and resigned from the college because my ex was being transferred to Sydney with his work and I was joining him.’

      ‘And your family?’

      A flicker of pain crossed her face. But then she sat upright and eyed him coolly. ‘I don’t have one.’

      Despite all the hurts and frustrations of the past, and the fact that he had far from perfect relationships with his emotional and unpredictable mother and grandmother, he could never imagine life without them. What must it be like to have no family? Had she no friends who could take their place?

      ‘Your friends...?’

      With her legs crossed, she rotated her left ankle in the air. Agitated. Upset.

      ‘I appreciate your concern, but I’m not going back to London. I have no home to go to. I can’t go back...I can’t face everyone. I need some time away. After I was released from police custody I checked out of the hotel we’d been staying in...’ She paused and bit her lip, drank some whisky, grimaced. ‘I ran away.’

      ‘You’re a runaway bride?’

      Her generous full mouth twisted unhappily. She refused to meet his eye.

      ‘I’m not putting my friends out by sleeping on their sofas. My closest friend Rachel has just had a baby; the last thing she needs right now is a lodger. This is my mess—it’s up to me to sort it out. My ex might have stolen everything from me, but he isn’t going to stop me from living my life. I’ve always wanted to see Venice during Carnival. And I fully intend doing so.’

      Her mouth gave a little wobble.

      ‘We had organised our wedding for this week so that it coincided with Carnival.’

      She was putting up one hell of a fight to keep her tears at bay. He felt completely out of his comfort zone.

      ‘I’ll pay for your hotel room by way of compensation for any inconvenience my grandmother’s actions may have caused.’

      ‘I don’t want your money.’

      Old memories churned in his stomach at her resolve. He knew only too well that it masked vulnerability.

      He remembered throwing guilt money from Stefano, one of his mother’s boyfriends, who had just shoved it into his hands, off the balcony of Stefano’s apartment. He had got momentary satisfaction seeing Stefano’s shame. It had been short-lived, though, when he and his mother had been forced to sleep in a homeless hostel that night.

      He had stayed awake all night, unable to sleep, vowing he would never be in that position again. Vowing to drag his mother out of poverty and to protect her. Even if her behaviour had led them to sharing a room with eight strangers. He would be a success. Which meant he would no longer be held hostage by poverty, by the lack of choices, the motives of other people.

      It was an ambition he was still chasing. He still needed to leave behind the spectre of hunger, the fear of not being in control, still needed to prove himself, still needed to make sure he protected his family...and now the tens of thousands who worked for him.

      He looked at his watch and then back at her. She was blinking rapidly. Unexpected emotion gripped his throat. He forced it away with a deep swallow. ‘It’s late. We can talk about this in the morning.’

      ‘I can stay?’

      The relief in her face hit him like a punch. This woman needed compassion and care. His grandmother should be here, finishing the task she’d started. Not dumping it on him. He was too busy. In truth, he didn’t know how to help her. He didn’t get tangled up in this type of situation. He kept others at arm’s length. No one got close. Even his mother and grandmother. And that was not going to change.

      ‘You can stay for tonight. Tomorrow I will organise alternative accommodation for you.’

      * * *

      Half an hour later Emma lay on cool sheets in the bed of another bedroom, her mind on fire, wondering if the past few hours had actually happened.

      A knock sounded on the door. She sat up and stared at the door dubiously.

      ‘Emma—it’s Matteo.’

      Her heart flipped in full operatic diva mode. Did he have to speak in a voice that sounded as if he was caressing her? And what did he want? Had he changed his mind about her staying?

      She cautiously opened the door and drank in the sight of Matteo, freshly showered, his thick brown hair damp, wearing nothing but pyjama bottoms. The golden expanse of his hard СКАЧАТЬ